Ghost Of A New Life
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: Abby had never given the idea of reproduction much thought. Post-Finale


Abby had never given the idea of reproduction much thought. Even when she was younger and the girls she was growing up with would talk about whether or not they wanted to be mothers when they got older, theorized about what their family and their children would be like she had never really had an opinion on the matter. She had told them she didn't know if she wanted to be a mother, that she wasn't sure if that was right for her or not. And she had always pretty much figured that when the time came she would know whether or not parenthood was the thing for her.

When her mother died her whole world fell apart though. She couldn't even bring herself to imagine what it would be like to be a parent. To have to see her mother hanging from a tree like that, skin pale and cooling in the summer air she knew that there would come a time, most likely, that she would die and her child would have to bury her. She never wanted to put her child through that so she pushed the very notion of parenthood as far from her mind as she possibly could, not wanting to hurt someone she would love more than life itself by putting them through that.

Over time while she was in L.A. and the wounds slowly started to mend she realized that perhaps, in time, she would be able to overcome what had happened to her and possibly be a mother. She thought of her own mother and their relationship; thought of how much she had loved her and how well they had always gotten along and figured that maybe, just maybe she could give that to her child; maybe she could be the person that her child trusted with their secrets, someone they depended on and trusted. It was almost a comforting feeling, one that she couldn't help but grow fond of.

But after the island, after watching the people she had known for years and loved be slaughtered (and those she scarcely knew but worried about nonetheless) that old fear rose back up. The notion of parenthood became just as bizarre and frightening as it had been when she saw her mother's dead body. She thought about all of the parents of the people who had died there, thought of their pain and how they would have to bury their children far before their time and all because of someone else's child- her _mother's_ child they were suffering.

And what if her child somehow ended up just as damaged? What if her child was as deranged and broken as Henry and Wakefield had been? There was no rhyme or reason to who would become like that; it wasn't always genetics that dictated a person's grasp on reality; wasn't always genetic that decided whether or not a person had a moral compass or not. And the idea of having her own child turn into something so cruel was one that shook her to the core; the idea of having to live with the knowledge that her child could end someone else's life, could be so cruel and careless would be far too much for her to entertain.

So once she left the island she had promised herself that she would never risk putting herself through that; she had promised herself that she wouldn't have children even though she knew that the future was unpredictable (the island had taught her that) and that sometimes you can't always count on life throwing curves at you. Sometimes you just have to take things as they come and see what happens. It wasn't a very comforting thing to know but it was a fact nonetheless, one she had tried to push aside.

She had tried to move on with her life, live as normally as possible. She let her co-workers constantly ask her if she was alright, would smile at them and tell them that she would be, in time. She wasn't sure how true that was but she knew that's what they wanted to hear. When someone asks you if you're alright after something like she went through they aren't really asking to know. They're trying to be polite; trying to decide whether or not she was going to start to freak out and possibly go homicidal maniac on _them_ like Henry had on the people who trusted him.

Jimmy never asked her whether she was alright which was a good thing because she didn't want to pretend with him. He wasn't alright and neither was she and they had both come to accept that. It was just something they were living with, something they couldn't really work through on their own but also don't know how to go about discussing it with each other. So they never really brought it up. Neither of them wanted to be the first one to delve into the other person's brain and play around in the other's pain. So they wouldn't bring it up, just figured that eventually one of them would open up about it. But she also knew that there was absolutely no way that she could have a child while they were playing games like that. (She hadn't intended to have kids after the whole island mess anyway but that just reinforced her choice all the more.)

But even the best laid plans don't always work out. Life likes to throw curves at you, make sure that you don't always have things go the way you want them to. Sure, sometimes life is kind to you but for the most part it just screws around with you.

Standing in her apartment on her day off, the early morning sun lighting up the room, a mug full of tea in her hands she looks out at the city before her, Jimmy long gone and off at work. She doesn't know what she's going to do now that life threw a curve. Deep down she knows that she has to talk to Jimmy, let him know what's going on though she isn't sure yet what she's going to do.

Jimmy will be a big part of her choice. She isn't sure that anything can work out even _remotely_ well now but it isn't about her anymore. It's about Jimmy, too. It's really about them and that scares her.

She slides one hand down and rests it on her stomach. Beneath her hand a tiny little being rests.

She thinks that maybe, just maybe thinking that there is no good at all that can come from becoming a mother might not be completely accurate.


End file.
